


the effect of you

by quietgold



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Garrus plays football, Modern AU, Normandy the Bicycle, Shakarian - Freeform, Teen AU, everyone is human, garrus has a cool car, tali has a blog
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-19 19:27:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 12,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5978512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietgold/pseuds/quietgold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She doesn’t drive. She has a sweet bicycle that everyone calls the Normandy. The Normandy SR1, she says, because one day she’ll have a car and Normandy is just too damn good of a name to give up.</p><p>A Teen  AU following the evolving friendship and eventual romance of Garrus Vakarian and Shepard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story began as a series of lighthearted drabbles on Tumblr, and has since developed a mind of its own. It is, and will always be, a reprieve from my other projects. This might mean updates come slowly, but they will always (always!!) come.

**grade one**  
  
The first time he sees her, she’s flying across the playground like a wild beast. She shouts and hollers and launches herself at Kaidan Alenko and takes him down with a cry of victory. Her hands are every which way, and Alenko shrieks as she musses his hair and smears dirt on his cheeks.   
  
And then she’s running off, laughing as the teacher chases after her.   
  
“Shepard!"   
  
Garrus only stares, hoping that she never flies at him.   
  
**grade four**  
  
"Girls will give you cooties,” Joker says. “Trust me.”  
  
And everyone does. Joker is the trustworthy sort. Nine years old and enough power to sway the entire grade four boys population into shrieking whenever a girl comes near. Everyone trusted him because he was the only boy to take the swings over the top bar – ever.   
  
That had to count for _something._  
  
Shepard is the first to say anything, cornering Kaidan and Garrus and Joker on the playground with Ashley Williams. Both of them are snarling and wondering why no one will play tag with them.   
  
“Cooties!” Joker yells.  
  
“Cooties,” Garrus and Kaidan explain forlornly.  
  
“What are cooties?” Ash asks.   
  
“They’ll make you turn green and you’ll explode and then you’ll die,” Joker’s hands have wrapped around his own throat, and his tongue pokes out. “No one wants to explode and die!"   
  
Shepard looks less than enthused. She glowers at each of them, "that is the dumbest thing I’ve heard. You can’t explode _and then_ die."   
  
Joker points at her, "shows what you know.”  
  
“You’d die when you explode – dummy.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
Garrus laughs, because she has him there.  
  
**grade seven**  
  
She punches him in grade seven, right there in front of the Phys. Ed teacher like she doesn’t care a bit. It has nothing to do with her temper, but _everything_ to do with his.   
  
The teacher gives them both detention.  
  
Garrus thinks it’s unfair, but Shepard revels in it.    
  
His nose is bleeding everywhere – still – and his eye is swollen. Shepard is holding an ice pack against her knuckles and staring at him with fire in her eyes. There are several desks between them, but he has no doubt in his mind that she’d be able to launch herself clean over all of them if he said the _wrong thing._  
  
“So,” Shepard breaks the unnerving silence. “You still think I fight like a girl, Vakarian?”  
  
Garrus glowers. He’s never been one to back down from a challenge, “oh yeah, Shepard. Definitely.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Fifteen.**  
  
"You still think I fight like a girl, Vakarian?"

He'll never get sick of it. It's a tireless battle – eternal. He only grins at her, and says: "Oh yeah, Shepard. Definitely."

And then she's flying into him.

She takes him down. He lets her – sort of. He'll never admit to her that he sometimes lets her, and sometimes he has no choice; that'd be offering her too much, and he knows how she is when someone strokes her ego.

Shepard is up, laughing and bending over with an outstretched hand. She helps him up and dusts him off, her hands quick and patient as they pick and brush and flick away any dirt.

"You went down like a champ, Garrus," she says, laughing.

He grins, "well, you know, a guy like me – only one way to go down."

She doesn't blush or sputter or blink at him stupidly. She grins, and he grins back – because they're friends and nothing more.

**Seventeen.**

Vega follows her around like a love-sick puppy. A really _big_ love-sick puppy. "Come on, Commander," he grinds out, "just one more rematch."

Shepard shrugs and turns to him, hands out to the side as she continues backwards down the hall, "come on, James. If I give you another chance I know you'll beat me – and how'd _that_ look, huh?"

Vega only pouts, "but–"

"Come on, Vega," Garrus shoots him a look. "You know she'll just leave you high and dry again."

"No, Vakarian. No." James Vega points at him, all serious business tones and furrowed brow, but his child-like exuberance bleeds through. "I almost had her last time. Her KDR wasn't so hot."

Garrus scoffs, "modding your controller doesn't count, AH-ME-GO."

Vega waves him off, and turns his eyes back on Shepard. She is grinning at him, hands stuck in her pockets and her thumbs wiggling enticingly. "I'll give you another rematch, Vega. But it'll be a good old fashion LAN party."

"What?"

She laughs – "you kids… too damn young to know a thing."

* * *

They're in the booth of a Noodle House. Shepard's feet are kicked out under the table, resting beside him on the booth's cushion.

Garrus stares at her, her nonchalance and confidence all rolled into one. He doesn't know how she does it.

"Vega wants your pants."

"My pants?" Shepard stops mid-slurp, a noodle still hanging out of her mouth. One of the waiters is gaping at her, appalled at her eating decorum. "He wants _my pants_?"

Garrus blushes, "into. _Into_. Your pants."

She slurps up the last bit of the noodle and smirks at him, "what? Jealous, Vakarian?"

He scoffs, but doesn't say a word.


	3. Chapter 3

He plays football. That's his thing. Sometimes she laughs at him for it, and then sometimes on the days after a big game, she doesn't. Despite how much Shepard always acts like tough shit, she knows that his father is hard on him.

That's his _other_ thing.

_"_ _Do things right, or don't do them at all,"_ Garrus mutters over the phone. He's staring up at the ceiling of his room, wondering what is more frightening; the silence of his father downstairs, or the sharp intake of breath from Shepard over the line. "He's military to the bone," he says. "I'll never be good enough."

"Garrus. Your father is proud of you."

"My throwing arm, sure. I'm not so sure about the rest of me."

* * *

He stews in silence for an hour. Self flagellation is his forte. He thumbs the screen of his phone, stares at her number, and then lets it fade to black. Rinse, repeat. She always knows what to say to make him feel better, but as soon as their conversation is over her absence sucks the wind out of him.

"Damn," he hisses.

Shepard is suddenly there, pressing her face against his bedroom window and smiling. She smirks at his wide eyed stupor, and holds up a large slushee cup in either hand.

He lets her in, and hurriedly kicks a pair of underpants under his bed when she isn't looking.

"Weren't you going head to head with Vega?"

She shrugs and kicks off her shoes, "he can fuck off."

"You lose?"

She glances over her shoulder at him and grins, "he didn't win if that's what you're asking."

He smirks. Vega can _definitely fuck off._

She pushes one of the slushee cups into his chest. "Besides, someone needed some back-up tonight," she says.

Sometimes, he wonders if he deserves her loyalty.

* * *

It happens as they're watching some awful television series Shepard insists is good. She's sitting there on his bed, in his sweats, her own flannel tucked poorly here or there, and her hair every which way. She's flicking popcorn into her mouth and sucking it down with a Coca-Cola slushee.

He can't stop looking at her.

At first he has no idea why. It's a simple thought really: _she looks outrageous right now, I should tell her._ It then turns into something more: _she doesn't look too awful… and_ _why am I letting her wear my pants?_ It eventually evolves into an awkward conclusion that leaves him sucking down his own slushee in frantic disbelief. The brain freeze hits him hard, grounding him in pain.

He groans.

"Well, at least this proves you have a brain, Vakarian."

"Fuck off, Shepard."

Her laugh echoes like a stadium crowd in his ears.

He can't think of anything but _how close she is._


	4. Chapter 4

She doesn't drive. She has a sweet bicycle that everyone calls the Normandy. _The Normandy SR1_ , she says, because one day she'll have a car and Normandy is just too damn good of a name to give up.

She's proud of thing. An old gift from her her godfather. She could hardly reach the pedals then. He'd put it into her chubby hands and told her quite simply, "the missions your's now, Shepard. Good luck."

She'd grown right-quick after that; she sprouted up and even passed Garrus for a few months. Her parents always laughed and said she'd grown to catch up to the Normandy.

They were probably right.

* * *

Garrus offers her a ride to school every day, and every day she refuses.

"One day I'll let you chauffeur me around, Vakarian, but not today," she winks.

He watches her pedal away, her hair billowing like fire. There is an unrepentant joy in her eyes when she rides the Normandy.

_Maybe one day..._

* * *

He finds her at the bike racks, shoulders tense and fists clenched and body yelling _fight me._

"Shepard?" _  
_

She doesn't look at him, and when he draws up beside her he sees why. The Normandy's front tired has been slashed.

"Uh," is the only thing he knows how to say.

Shepard is all tension and roiling anger and murder. He's seen her angry - he got a first hand taste of her fist in grade seven -, but she's no longer a seething adolescent. She is danger that could level a battlefield. His breath is sucked out of his lungs - he doesn't know what to say or do but stand beside her and _wait and see what happens._

"This is going to end badly for somebody," Shepard's voice is quiet and controlled and careful.

When she finally looks at him her eyes are alight with an unspoken question.

_Are you with me?_ She silently asks.

_We're in this til the end._

* * *

Tali has a video recording.

It is an embarrassing video diary how-to, much to Garrus' chagrin.

_"My name is TOTALI-kewl98, and welcome to my make-up tutorial using only natural allergen free products!"_

Garrus coughs.

"Er, sorry, Shepard," Tali blushes and pushes the fast forward.

"The production value is pretty rad, Tali," Shepard appraises. She is as quick with a kind word as she is with the promise of violence.

Tali blushes and stutters and rings her hands, her eyes light and hopeful behind her glasses. "I've been posting them online. You know that some sites will offer you revenue if you have enough views and subscribers and -"

"I can share it on CitNet if you'd like" Shepard offers.

Tali almost dies. Or so Garrus thinks. She goes still, she hardly breathes; he almost considers poking her to make sure she's still a warm body. "Yes please," she gurgles out.

Shepard nods, "no problem. So, what was it you wanted to show me?"

Tali refocuses. She pokes and prods and clicks away at several buttons until the make-up tutorial is replaced by a wiggly shot of the school yard. The camera creaks and cracks as it is focused and refocused, zooming in and out as it records someone slicing the Normandy's front tire.

* * *

She is a tempest; thunder and lightning and rain screaming against a window pane. She is the promise of violence; fury and anger and command.

He trails after her as she moves across the cafeteria, readying himself for the inevitable conflict. The cafeteria is to be her theatre of war, everyone that catches a glimpse of her realizes it. One by one the others notice her, eyes wide. They realize her anger, and like stardust billowing over the bow of a ship, they part.

They part until they can part no longer, and the root of Shepard's problems stands before her.

"Saren," Shepard says by way of greeting - or perhaps it is the declaration of an execution.

"Shepard," he regards her over his shoulder, indifference and contempt dripping off of him.

She doesn't back down from his feigned nonchalance. She smiles, wicked and blood thirsty.

"Fight me, Arterius."

* * *

Shepard gets a week suspension for the fight.

She's walking home from school, pushing the crippled Normandy up a hill. She doesn't feel defeated, even if the walk home is long, and her knuckles are split and raw. She had simply been doing her civic duty. It had only been a matter of time that someone took him down, and in her opinion it might as well have been her. Saren had always had a bad reputation; the crowd that had inevitably gathered had screamed for his defeat.

In the end, the fight coupled with the vandalism of her property had seen Saren's suspension extended far longer than her own.

A car pulls up beside her - a dark blue _Starfighter._ She smiles - it's hard edged and battle worn - when the window rolls down and Garrus leans over, appraising her over the rim of his sunglasses.

"How about a ride, Shepard?"

"One day," she says. "But not today."

He has a soft breathy laugh as he pulls his car over; he shakes his head in amusement as he unfolds himself from the car; his hands are in his pockets and his t-shirt is tight. He's beautiful, beautiful, _beautiful,_ she thinks.

He offers to walk her home.

She doesn't say no.


	5. Chapter 5

The school is quiet without Shepard.

Or maybe Garrus' startling lack of social life has never been more apparent.

Oh, he _has_ friends, but they _aren't_ Shepard. Despite the violent nature of their acquaintance, they had become infallible friends. There was an ease to being friends with Shepard – in a society focused on labels, she didn't require him to be anyone but himself.

"Get in her pants yet?" Wreav leers at him from across the cafeteria table.

Garrus sets his fork down, his meal forgotten. "What was that?"

Wreav sort of laughs – it is a sound as dumb as he is. _Heh heh heh._

Around him the rest of the football team have gone quiet, watching in lurid interest. Wreav has always had a reputation for being a shit disturber, but he's never gone after their often distant – occasionally temperamental - quarterback. To be fair, he's never really had the opportunity. Garrus never ate lunch with them more than a handful of times. This week being the exception.

"I said -"

"No, I heard what you said, Wreav," Garrus interrupts, his tone mild."I just want to make sure you're prepared to get punched in the mouth."

Despite the calm of his manner, the threat is real.

Wreav, despite being a big oaf, considers him carefully. He glances at the rest of the team, but they hold up hands and back down. They enjoy a good ribbing once in a while, but Garrus can be a hothead about some things – and Shepard is one of them.

Wreav rolls his shoulders, a wicked light in his eyes.

With a smug grin he starts, "I said-"

And Garrus punches him in the mouth.

* * *

"You were sent home?"

"Yeah," Garrus says into the receiver.

"Garrus," she hisses, and he feels his heart do something funny at the use of his first name. It is only mildly tempered by her beration. "What about the team?"

He flexes his hand. The skin split when he hit Wreav, and it hurt like hell, but he would survive - as would his football career. Coach had made sure he had walked away scot-free, much to the chagrin of Principal Sparatus.

"Wreav shook it off. They sent me home because I was bleeding all over the damn place."

"I know you have a temper, Vakarian, but what in the hell made you angry enough to take on Wreav?"

He doesn't say anything.

"Garrus?"

"It was starting to get boring, Shepard. Someone had to do something to... _liven_ the place up a little."

She scoffs.

"I had a lot to live up to, especially after _someone_ punched Saren Arterius..."

Shepard grunts. "Yeah, well how was I supposed to know he'd cripple the Normandy when I dropped his KDR to half a percent? He's a loose cannon."

Garrus scoffs, "maybe let the next bad guy win, Shepard."  
  
She laughs - it is a long and low sound that sends a ripple up his spine. When she speaks her voice is wreathed with affections, "unlikely, Vakarian."

The line goes quiet. Both of them mulling over something not so different from the other. Something unsaid and refused voice, but felt all the same.

At length Garrus coughs, "see you this weekend?"

"Yeah," she smiles into the line – he can hear it.

"I'll see you then."

She says something before he can hang up, and he lifts the receiver back to his ear. "Sorry, what was that?"

"Nothing," she says, her voice wistful.


	6. Chapter 6

Shepard dreams.

She dreams of stars, and steel giants gliding in a dark and endless ocean. There are times when she's the heroine of her own story, and in others she is the villain.

And in one story she dies – her lungs filling with void.

* * *

She jerks awake and reaches for someone who isn't there.

* * *

 _Shepard_  
\- you awake?  
11:45pm

_Garrus  
_ _\- Let me check  
_ _11:45pm_

_Shepard  
_ _\- do you ever think about what it'd be like out in the stars?  
_ _11:46pm_

_Garrus  
_ _\- It'd probably leave you breathless.  
_ _11:46pm_

_Garrus  
_ _-... get it?  
_ _11:46pm_

_Shepard  
_ _\- ...  
_ _11:48pm_

_Shepard  
_ _\- what are you?  
_ _11:48pm_

_Garrus  
_ _\- ;-)  
_ _11:48pm_

_Shepard  
_ _\- hang out tomorrow?  
_ _11:49pm_

_Garrus  
_ _\- Wouldn't miss it.  
_ _11:48pm_

* * *

Technically Shepard is grounded.

_Technically._

Her mother feigns ignorance. Her father slips her the key to Normandy's bike lock _–_ a consequence of beating the snot out of a bully was having her one joy _dry docked_ for a few days.

Obviously her father considered her restitution paid.

"Don't get into too much trouble," he whispers loudly. Beside him, Shepard's mother hums as she sorts through stacks of paperwork. Despite sitting only a foot away from this exchange, she maintains her supposed oblivion to Shepard's jailbreak.

"Don't tell mom," Shepard whispers back, casting a glance at her mother's pleasantly serene expression. Her pen flows across pages upon pages of paperwork in swooping arcs and gentle rises.

"Say hi to Garrus for us – I mean, _me,"_ her father winks.

"Will do."

As Shepard slips from the dining room and out the house, her mother finally smiles.

* * *

It's been a week since he's seen her. It's been a week since he watched her haul back and obliterate Arterius. It's been a week since she stood back after that initial punch, and marched herself to the principal's office – head held high, shoulders back. The cafeteria had roared with approval; it was absolutely barbaric.

Arterius had crawled away, hardly more than a shadow at the edge of knowing.

He had seen her come out escorted by a faculty member. The silent, grim pair had left the pricipal's office – Shepard had flashed Garrus the ghost of a smile, and then she had gone.

For days she had been absent – social media, online gaming, even her cellphone had flat lined. Until two nights ago, when she had sent him a picture of a hamster with overflowing cheeks.

It's been a week since he's seen her – and he's _nervous._

He's leaning against the nose of the _Starfighter_ , thumbing his phone. He's trying to be nonchalant, but every passerby draws his attention. He starts sweating after a few minutes.

His palms are sweaty.

His phone chirps. He glances down.

_Shepard  
_ _\- wait til u c mytir  
_ _4:34pm_

He rolls his eyes at her typos – a clear indication of her attempt to bike _and_ text –, even autocorrect can't save the day.

He looks up in time to see her rounding a corner, sitting back on her seat, one hand on the handlebars, and the other with phone in hand. Carelessly swerving here and there – at one point she nearly plows into a mailbox.

His eyes burn with yellow.

And suddenly her text makes sense.

She pulls up beside him and flashes a smirk at his dumbfounded expression. "Well hell, Garrus. Nice to see you to."

"Shepard, what the _hell_ is that?" He can't look away.

For her part Shepard looks unconcerned. She glances down at the front tire of the Normandy. "What?"

"It's... yellow."

Shepard considers the yellow tire, and looks back at him with a shrug. "It's temporary," she waves off.

He doesn't know what to say.

He doesn't know how to make it sound better than it is. His words come tumbling out of his mouth before he knows to sensor his brain. "Good – it's ugly."

"Yeah," she agrees, almost solemn. "Yellow is certainly _not_ her colour."

"She looks good in black."

"And chrome."

"With a _dash_ of red."

Shepard smirks at him.

He smirks back.

"Glad to be back, Shepard?"

"Always," she breathes.

And it's like she was never gone.

* * *

"Do you ever have weird dreams, Garrus?"

Garrus, furrow-browed and confused, looks up from the curious figure the barista drew into the foam of his – in _his opinion –_ pretentious and overpriced coffee. Shepard leans into an oversized wing back chair, her fingers curled around her own coffee mug. She considers him with a placid expression.

"What was that, Shepard?"

"Do you ever have weird dreams?"

He dreams of silver and blue armour sliding over his skin – or maybe it _is_ his skin. There is a rifle in his hands, and red tape around his wrists and over his mouth. Sometimes he is in the belly of a behemoth, its insides made of metal and light.

And she's there. She's _always_ there.

Even when the dreams of silver and blue fade to black – she's there, whispering in his ear.

Or maybe he just dreams of her lips at his ear, on his neck-

Garrus clears his throat, "what sort of dreams? Am I in them?"

He tries to play off his nervousness with a laugh.

She smiles slyly, shrugs, and sips her coffee.

She doesn't reply.


	7. Chapter 7

He dreams of her.

They're sipping coffee and joking and laughing.

"Do you ever have weird dreams, Garrus?" Dream-her asks.

He knows he's had this conversation before. He had it in waking – surrounded by a real coffee shop, drinking real coffee. It was question that had caught him off guard in the real world, and it seems, similarly, in dreaming.

He feels hot, and he tugs at his shirt. "What sort of dreams?"

 _Am I in them?_ he doesn't ask.

She places her coffee cup down.

He doesn't see her move. One moment she's sitting in her chair, and the next she's leaning over him, pressing her forehead to his in a surprisingly intimate gesture.

She lets out a long breath – it coils around him.

Garrus can't breathe.

"This sort of dream," dream-her says.

Her fingers brush his arm, his cheek, his lips.

His own hands are glued to the armrests of his chair, fingers digging deeper and deeper into the fabric. He can hear the wood crack.

And then the world starts to vibrate.

* * *

His phone vibrates right off his nightstand and falls into a metal rubbish bin. It vibrates again, chiming with a new message – the sound is monstrous.

Garrus starts awake. He stares at his ceiling, bewildered and a bit shocked. There is a creeping sense of disappointment as he realizes what had _almost_ transpired in his dream, and then guilt as he realizes what had _almost_ transpired and with _whom._

He digs the heel of his palm into his eyes, groaning irritably as the metal bin shakes with a new message.

He rolls over and digs it out of the trash, thumbing the screen open.

Message(s) 2

_Shepard  
_ _\- want to hang out after school?  
_ _6:45am_

_Shepard  
_ _\- also, what is this hero of the citadel thing i keep hearing about?  
_ _6:45am_

_Garrus  
_ _\- You know I was sleeping right?  
_ _6:48am_

_Shepard  
_ _\- yeah... anyways?  
_ _6:49am_

_Garrus  
_ _\- I have no idea what you're talking about._  
7:30am

_Shepard  
_ _\- okay. ps. did u fall asleep?  
_ _7:31am_

_Garrus  
_ _\- No. I was just ignoring you._  
7:32am

_Shepard  
_ _\- :') u r so nice to me  
_ _7:32am_

_Garrus_   
_\- Learn to write, nerd.  
7:33am_

* * *

It was a little crush before. Something small and present. How could he not feel that way when she was one of the few that knew almost everything about him?

But now, as he stands on the front steps of school, watching her walk up like some conquering hero, Garrus realizes he might be in love with her. Another part – that part that had stood at attention during his coffee shop dream – has another idea all together.

"Shepard," he coughs as she draws up to him.

"Vakarian, don't look so grim," she laughs. "Miss me much?"

_Yes._

"Your ugly mug? Nah," he grins back.

Despite the fact they've seen one another over the weekend, there is something different when school is involved. It is an entirely different world.

* * *

He completely forgets about the text message.

_Shepard_

_\- also, what is this hero of the citadel thing i keep hearing about?_

_6:45am_

He is promptly reminded when they walk the hallways.

She's a hero.

The Hero.

The Hero of the Citadel.

They say _'Hey Shepard!'_ and _'Way to go, Shep!'_ in passing. Their hands fly up for high fives. She's always gracious enough to accept.

Even the football team – the group of soggy pyjaks they are, he thinks – offer celebratory thumbs up. He can't help but bristle at them.

People clamber for her attention right up until the bell rings for first period. He stands awkwardly at her side, watching her smile graciously, humbly at everyone seeking a word with her.

Always she turns to him, her smile wide, but her eyes begging him to take her away.

* * *

They escape school before more people try to speak with her. She nearly panics when a group of Mathletes try to corner her with an honorary Mathletes sweater. He grabs her hand and tugs her out into the parking lot.

They gasp and laugh and she is leaning against him. She fits perfectly, he thinks. 

"This is absolutely surreal," she says.

Garrus chuckles. "I guess Saren was a bit more of a problem than we thought."

"Yeah. I'm surprised there wasn't a hit out on the guy."

They chuckle quietly for a few more minutes before Shepard's stomach rumbles loudly.

Garrus rears back and smirks.

She shrugs, "being a hero works up the appetite."

"I wouldn't know."

"Oh right. Psh. Star Quarterback."

He grins.

"Lets go get coffee and some pastries," she weaves her fingers through his and tugs him behind her.

His dream rears before his eyes - her leaning over him, her lips on his. 

Garrus swallows thickly, and realizes she might be the death of him. 


	8. Chapter 8

"He's good."

Principal Sparatus' sharp eyes track the throwing arm of a high school saint, watching as the football arcs through the air into the waiting arms of another player. He sniffs when James Vega carries the ball to touchdown; the young man strikes an obscene pose to the howls of approval from his team.

Despite his winning run, it isn't Vega that garners their attention.

"Vakarian is on the list," Coach Bailey offers. His fingers drum idly against the clipboard cradled against his chest – a list of names. "We have scouts coming next week."

Principal Sparatus watches the tall, lean young man who stands apart from the rest – both in stature and in skill. Garrus Vakarian looks a soldier in the blue and black colours of Citadel High School – his expression cool despite the over exuberance of his teammates.

"He is a fine representative of Citadel High," Bailey assures – again.

Sparatus makes a noise at the back of his throat. "When he isn't assaulting his fellows, you mean."

Bailey sputters. "Garrus is a good kid. He's just in with the wrong crowd-"

In that moment Garrus lifts his eyes, a grin stretching across his face. He jogs to the edge of the field towards a figure leaning on the handlebars of her bicycle.

"Shepard is worse than the  _wrong crowd_ ," Sparatus sniffs.

* * *

He's like a rock. An immovable center. The field revolves around him; the players are his pawns.

She watches his throw – the ball lets loose like a perfect shot. He's a sniper on the field, his aim true. It's something that always takes her breath away, his ability to remain calm and precise and _deadly_ despite the hulking brutes that descend upon him.

He jogs towards her, his coolness melting into an easy and lopsided grin. She feels a flush at the sight of him – sweaty and muscled. Something decidedly _Garrus._

Something she has dreamt about.

Something that has left her reaching for someone _not there_ in the night.

"You look ridiculous in those pants," she says, nearly choking on her lie.

Garrus' grin goes sly. "Like what you see, Shepard?"

She laughs, and offers him one of two blue raspberry slushees. He accepts it, his fingers brushing her own. It feels like the sound of a gunshot.

She wonders if his hands feel like the steel giants gliding in her dreams. She wonders if his mouth would feel like descending into a dark and endless ocean of stars.

"In your dreams, Vakarian," she breathes.

* * *

_In your dreams, Vakarian._

He nearly chokes. Instead he wrestles a smirk on his face and refuses to be anything but Garrus Vakarian – Shepard's best friend.

_Just_ her best friend.

"You're hurting my feelings here, Shepard."

She rolls her eyes and turns away, watching the antics of the team in their post-war (practice) shenanigans. Vega is still celebrating his _game_ (practice) _winning_ score. Shepard blinks, and turns to Garrus. The judgment in her eyes makes him laugh.

"Why is Vega holding his dick?"

"He scored a touch down."

"Against who?"

Garrus shrugs. "I don't think _he's_ quite figured that out yet."

Shepard laughs, her teeth flashing blue. Her lips, he notices, are stained the same colour – blue raspberry.

He sucks at his teeth. He bites at his lip. And he knows, in that particular moment, what she would taste like.

If only he was more than _just_ her best friend.


	9. Chapter 9

Sometimes, when neither can sleep, they sneak onto the football field and lie among the yard lines. It is there in the deep of night that they stare up at the sky. The stars, however muted by the pollution of light from the city, remind them both of unspoken dreams.

"Do you ever think what it'd be like up there?" Shepard whispers, enraptured.

"Yeah." He stares at the sky. As dim as it might have been made by the flare of the city lights, he cannot deny its immeasurable wealth.

"I dream of stars," Shepard's voice is low and quiet, as if she is sharing with him a secret. "Every night."

Garrus tries to imagine what its like. He tries to imagine dreaming of infinity; to behold a plane of existence without end.

"Sometimes I die."

Garrus feels his breath catch in his chest – a painful lurch dragging at his ribs.

She turns her eyes to him, unafraid and thoughtful.

"But it is just a dream," she whispers, her breath cascading across his throat. "And dreams are best left as dreams."  
  
He remembers his own dreams of _her,_ and what he would give to know them as reality.  "It would be okay if  _some dreams_ were real."

* * *

"Do you ever feel like your future is out of your control?" Garrus asks, his voice breaking through the stillness of the night.

Shepard stares at his profile, at the shadows draped across the left side of his face.

"My father wants me to go to the Academy."

He says it without bitterness, but with resignation.

"C-Sec?" She can't mask her surprise.

" _They offer exceptional football scholarships,"_ he imitates.

They don't speak for a long while thereafter.

* * *

 

After they see the stars, Shepard accepts a ride home - it is a rare occasion.

* * *

 

The Starfighter drifts down the highway like a ghost. It blends into the dark, engine purring in a soft whisper. The lights of the highway flash by one after the other, painting Shepard's face in a staccato of light and dark.

The window is open, the wind whistling through Shepard's fingers. She holds her hand out the window until her fingertips ache, and then she tucks them against Garrus' neck.

He grabs her wrist, a hiss on his lips.

"Garrus," Shepard's voice is almost entirely sucked through the open window. It is nearly a whisper.

He glances at her wrist trapped in his grip, his thumb pressed against her pulse. He can feel it flutter softly, the pulse of it matching his own heartbeat.

"When you think of your future," Shepard begins again, her voice strong and careful, "what do _you_ want?"

He hesitates. He hesitates because no one has ever asked him what he wants. Even his father had only ever wanted what was best for him, but he had never _asked_ his son what he wanted for himself.

His thumb traces her pulse - softly, idly.

Shepard says a word or makes a sound. The open window eats that too.

Garrus swallows thickly. He doesn't look away from the road, from the white lines flashing past him like stars. He wants to look at Shepard, but he's afraid she'll see the truth in his eyes.

He wrestles with his future because his father has made it impossible for her to exist alongside it. This is what he wants. He wants endless roads and starry skies and Shepard – always Shepard.

But how does he tell her that? He wonders. How does he tell her that she is an endless thought in his mind -- neither fading within dream, or upon waking...  
  
He releases her wrist, instead slipping his hand into hers. She touch is light and soft - every trace of the cool wind on her fingertips replaced instead by an unfathomable heat.   
  
Garrus whispers, "I'm good right here, Shepard."  
  
For now, it is the only truth he can offer her.

 


	10. Chapter 10

The Normandy is not a subtle bicycle – nor is its rider.

Shepard careens around the corner of the parking lot, nearly wiping out a group of freshmen. She hollers at them to move, exclaiming loudly that the brakes are more reminiscent of a Mako.

People scream.

Despite her terrible driving skills, Shepard never crashes. She takes curbs with jarring crack of rubber against concrete; she skids around corners with a squeal; she brakes by dragging her toes on the ground. 

"I can fix her brakes," Joker comments to Garrus. They are standing at the hood of the Starfighter, watching and waiting as Shepard drifts to a stop in front of them. She grins wildly from behind a pair of shades.

"I can fix your brakes," Joker deadpans.

Shepard swings off the bike. "Really?"

"You're riding around like a maniac on one of the finest mountain bikes known to man," Joker eyes the garish yellow tire. His arms strain in the cradles of his crutches. "It'd be a shame to let you run a beauty like this into the ground."

Joker produces a tool from his backpack, and ticks and tacks and taps at the wires of the brakes.

Shepard stares at him for a moment – and then she laughs.

Garrus feels his heart clench - a spike of jealousy slithers through him at the sight of Shepard laughing for someone that isn't him. It lasts all of a breath. He immediately feels miserable at the idea of his own insecurity and irrationality. Joker has his own infatuations besides; his friendship with Shepard more akin to begrudging (and sometimes bitter) respect.   
  
_Don't be weak_ , he hears his father say at the back of his mind. 

"You just... carry that around with you?" Garrus asks, redirecting his own energy into the curiousity that is Jeff 'Joker' Moreau.

Joker shrugs, "considering I can't fulfill my lifelong dream of piloting a spaceship anytime soon -"

At Garrus and Shepard's blank stare he sighs. "Okay, okay. I took it from Donelly."

"What does he think about that?" Shepard asks.

Joker shrugs, "he doesn't know."

Garrus and Shepard glance at one another. "Huh."

Upon making a final adjustment Joker rises to his feet, wincing and muttering about his frailty. He glances at Shepard, gesturing to the Normandy with a flourishing wrist. "Give it a whirl."

Shepard accepts the Normandy back and pedals off, careening as she is want to do. They watch her go, hearts in their throats as they watch her pick up speed. Shepard brakes the front tire hard and nearly tosses herself over the handlebars.

Garrus and Joker both wince.

She catches herself and glances at Garrus, flashing a wild grin over her shoulder and a thumbs up. She immediately pedals off, crowing expletives when she nearly runs into a parked car.

"Garrus," Joker says.

Garrus glances down at Joker hunched over his crutches, and back to Shepard whirling around cars and taking speed bumps with a joyous whoop. She nearly plows into a group of freshman, remembering last minute that her brakes are no longer invalid. It doesn't matter though – the freshmen still scream. 

"Never get in a car with her," Joker mutters.  
  
Garrus doesn't tell him that he would follow her anywhere -- to hell and back if she asked.   
  
Cars included. 

* * *

Tali has a crush on Garrus.

It isn't hard to tell.

Shepard watches from behind a juice box as he chats with the flustered young woman, all confidence and muscles and _Garrus._ Tali is fluttery hands and wheezes, eyes wide from behind her glasses as she appraises the star quarterback from across the lunch table, her omni-tool set to record between them.

"It's for my next video blog," she had explained.

Shepard hadn't wanted to comment on the inconsistency of Tali's _Makeup_ vlog's content. The girl was just too damn sweet – that, and her obvious crush was being met with a polite, if not an embarrassed smile from Garrus.

"What kind of car do you drive?" Tali asks. 

Garrus glances at Shepard.

She winks at him.

He flashes her the middle finger under the table.

Shepard digs her palm against her lips, trying not to laugh.

"I drive a Starfighter," Garrus replies. "Blue. Fast."

Tali smiles. Earnest, eager. "What year? The drive cores on models made in the last five years are apparently hugely inferior to the classics."

Garrus sets back, his interest obviously piqued. A smile cuts his face, eyes narrowed at the sign of a challenge. "They're only inferior if you don't calibrate them regularly."

They're off and away, talking animatedly about drive cores and thrusters and shields. Car talk.

Shepard sips her juice.

Garrus laughs.

She feels, for a brief moment, the sharp bite of jealousy. And she wants –

She _wants..._

Well, she knows what she wants. The idea of it - of him and her and the stars gliding against one another -- fills her with need. She remembers her dreams - endlessly wheeling through her mind - and wants to recant each and every one to him with her lips and hands. 

She blinks, feeling terrible. The envy in her breast feels like a cancer. She pushes it down, choking it beneath thoughts of puppies and kittens and Tali-is-just- _so_ -cute. 

And the idea that if she doesn't act soon, Garrus might slip through her fingers and drift away among stars. 

 

* * *

 


	11. Chapter 11

He plays football. That's his thing.

Well, _no._ It's his father's thing.

Not because football is the end goal, but because football can _take him places._ His father is the one that pushes and drives and spurs him on.

" _This is exactly_ when _you try harder. This is when you pull yourself together and you do it. Because if you stop now – if you give up on something when it gets hard – you're never going to make it anywhere in life."_

Garrus tries harder. He pulls himself together. He does it. He _does it._

He doesn't even like football. Not really. But he plays it because he's _damn good at it._ He plays it because his father wants him to, because _a football scholarship could take him places_ , and he owes it to his father to have a son he can be proud of.

* * *

The college football scouts love him. Principal Sparatus shakes his hand. Coach Bailey squeezes his shoulder and tells him he ought to be proud.

" _A fine game,"_ the two men say to one another, over and over again.

He wonders if they're congratulating him or each other.

* * *

A letter comes in the mail.

_Congratulations..._

Except the word congratulations reads more like a death sentence. He reads it over and over and over again, expecting it to go down smoother – not like the hot iron its become.

His father stares at him expectantly.

"I, uh," Garrus coughs, "I don't know what to say."

His father smiles – a rare sight in itself. "I'm proud of you, Garrus."

He feels the twisting, sour sensation of anxiety wrap itself around the relief of his father's approval. He chokes on the coupling emotions, not quite certain how he'll manage to smile. It takes a full minute to compose himself, to stiffen his shoulders and lift his chin. He allows himself a smile, thin and ghostly.

He tells himself to feel proud if only for his father.

* * *

The Starfighter, when opened up on the highway, doesn't roar like other cars – it screams.

The windows are down, wind ripping through the cabin, tearing at his hair and clothes. He accelerates, pushing the car further and further and further until its engine is screaming. The redline is his home; the redline is where the engine truly sings.

The engine screams, the wind roars, the cars around him melt into inconsequential blurs of stardust. He is so perfectly silent in the cabin; reserved even in this moment of release.

_Shepard and the Alliance. His father. Football. C-Sec. Shepard._

Eventually he runs out of road. The Starfighter drifts among plebian cars. He feels a faint thrill as he passes a police officer, knowing that only moments before he could have been caught for driving too fast and caring too little.

When he pulls into the drive at home, his father meets him on the front step and frowns at the Starfighter where it squats defiantly next to the family sedan. The Starfighter's engine ticks as it cools, tattling in its own way.

"Garrus," his father says – it is enough of a warning.

Garrus doesn't even shrug. "I'm going to bed, dad."

* * *

Shepard  
_\- are you home?  
__7:02 pm_

Garrus  
\- _Yeah.  
__7:02 pm_

Shepard  
\- _can i come over?  
__7:03 pm_

Garrus  
\- _Tonight might not be the best time, Shepard...  
__7:05pm_

Shepard  
\- _i have to talk to you about something.  
__7:05pm_

Shepard  
\- _it's important  
__7:05 pm_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snatched a large quote from the Mass Effect Homeworlds comics - aka, Garrus' father telling him what is UP.


	12. Chapter 12

Garrus  
- _Tonight might not be the best time, Shepard...  
7:05pm_

Shepard stares at her phone, jaw tight as she considers the careful snub. Garrus had his moments – they were often the result of his father's influence. Football and C-Sec and everything _not Shepard._ She can't blame him for these moments, and the worst part is that she never has in the past. Until now. 

She remembers Tali giggling and blushing, fawning over someone Shepard had always seen as a constant in her own life – and Tali's crush, however cute and inconsequential it might be, was a biting reminder that Garrus was not _her's._

And the jealousy... Shepard had never felt something so caustic.  
  
She types back a quick message. 

Shepard  
- _i have to talk to you about something.  
7:05pm_

Shepard  
- _it's important  
7:05 pm_

Garrus  
_\- K.  
__7:06pm_

Shepard  
_-great b there soon.  
__7:06pm_

She's already pulling the Normandy out of the garage before the text fully sends. She's going warp speed by the time she hits the road.

* * *

 

There is something about the wind. It roars in her ears until she can't hear anything else. Or maybe it's her heart roaring in her ears.

* * *

 

She tucks the Normandy behind the neatly manicured bushes on his front lawn, hiding it from view.

His window is the only light on in the house, his curtains closed. The rest of the house is covered in shadows. Daunting and cruel, trying to scare her before she speaks her mind. The Starfighter squats between her and house, its grill cut into a wicked snarl.

Though the world rears with ill omens, she is unafraid.

She takes a step -

"It's not a good night, Shepard."

Garrus' voice cuts through the stillness of the night, freezing her on the drive. He moves out from behind the Starfighter, hands tucked into his jeans, covered in shadows.

Her breath catches.

She notices the tightness of his jaw, the hunch of his shoulders. His eyes are dark, narrowed with anger.

"Vakarian," she steps forward, alarmed. "What's wrong?"

He shrugs. "I got in."

"Really? C-Sec?" 

He grinds his jaw and looks away, arms crossing as he leans against the Starfighter's nose.

She moves to his side.

"You're not happy."

"No."

"Garrus --" she wants to placate him, reassure him that his future isn't set in stone, but she can't tell him that. It's a lie. He is his father's son, and his father wants C-Sec. 

_It has an excellent football scholarship._

He glares at her, anger roiling across his face despite his best attempt to maintain his composure. He is on a hair-trigger; he is ready to explode.

"I feel like my future is out of my control."

She holds his eyes, refusing to look away despite the anger and despair that rolls off of him.

"When you think of your future," she is soft and calm, a sigh against a raging storm. "What do _you_ want?"

She can see his uncertainty. It is the entirety of his life – until _this_ moment. Before, in the Starfighter, when their words had been the same, he hadn't wanted anything. He had offered her a truth that did not conflict with his father's plans.  _I'm good right here._

But now – now his defiance exists in a moment.

His eyes, she thinks, cast across her lips, her jaw, her neck.

It is only a moment.

"Garrus," she sighs.

He looks her in the eye.

"What do _you want?"_

He won't take it, she thinks, and so she takes it for him.

She moves closer, sliding along the Starfighter's nose until her arm brushes his. His breath hitches, but he doesn't move away. He watches her carefully, his eyes dark.

When she kisses him, she finds stars on his lips. It is the barest breath of skin against skin, but they rear before her eyes – bright flashing lights that draw gasps from them both.

Her hands are on him; his hands slowly, tentatively, touch her. She realizes that stars might be on his lips, but the galaxy is in his touch. She shivers against him, his heat enveloping her even as his touch steals the breath from her lungs.

When he murmurs her name against her throat, teeth a hot trail behind it, she realizes he isn't just _saying_ her name, but what he wants for his future. What he's always wanted. 

* * *

 

Garrus leans into her, his forehead brushing hers. Their lips no longer touch, but their breath intermingles, swirling between them in soft gasps.

His hands have somehow found their way to her sides, touching and drifting along the sharp edges that make up Shepard. When his fingers breathe against her ribs she shudders, his name falling from her lips.

_Garrus, Garrus, Garrus._

There is a moment between dreaming and waking – this is that moment, he thinks.

And if he were to wake from dreaming to find her a figment of his imagination, he thinks he might implode. If the entirety of Shepard was the fraudulence of dreaming, he would become nothing more than star dust adrift.

He squeezes his eyes shut.

Her hand touches his face, fingers gliding along his jaw and trailing down his neck.

"Garrus," she whispers – so lowly as if to wake him from sleep.

When he opens his eyes she is there, the Starfighter is there, the darkness of night pressing around them. He meets her eyes, hooded and beautiful in the night, swirling with galaxies and endlessness.

"I thought I might be dreaming," he says.

She smirks at him, a laugh on the edge of her lips, "that bad, huh?"

"No," his hands wind about her, daring as they pull her closer and closer until their bodies meet. He ghosts his lips across her cheeks, her lips. "I never thought this would happen."

"You thought of it before?" She whispers, teasing.

Garrus coils his fingers through her hair.

Shepard stutters against him.

"Just for _a little_  while," he says coyly.

When he kisses her, they are both unmade.

* * *

 

Their moment ends. Their watches tell them that their moment was three hours long.

"I should go," Shepard whispers against his neck, in his embrace.

"Yeah," Garrus agrees.

He offers to drive her home – she refuses with a smile.

* * *

 

Garrus doesn't sleep that night.

Neither does Shepard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to get this one out. I hope you liked it :) I apologize for any mistakes.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the NEW chapter thirteen. Edits were made to the previous chapter.

Shepard is nervous. The sort of nervous that forms like a thunderstorm in her stomach. She tries to drown it out with the familiar wailing of the punk band, the Elcornauts. It hardly helps.

The Normandy takes the curb with a crack. People look. Not the ones she cares about - at all. Wreav and football team (sans the reason for her nerves); the AV club twittering amongst themselves; Ashley Williams and the field hockey crew.

Shepard drifts through the parking lot -- on higher alert than she's ever been.

And then she sees it: The Starfighter in its usual spot, Garrus leaning against the hood.

She swallows, forgetting how nervous she is because  _this is Garrus._ The same Garrus. Tall and lean, confident and funny and fuck he's  _looking at her -_

She nearly careens into a parked car.

He looks like he always has - only now she knows  _what he tastes like, what he feels like_. She spirals away from what they once were - laughing under the sun about video games and school and football - and up, up, up into the night sky, watching as two figures entwine on the hood of a blue Starfighter.

She swallows again.

She's focused so intently on  _not_ looking at Garrus -

She looks at him.

_Fuck._

He offers her a quiet smile.

"Hey," he says in a quiet voice to match.

She can only think of his lips on her's, his teeth on her throat, his fingers digging into her sides.

"Hey," she blurts out, the Normandy coming to a stop in front of him,

They stare at one another for a long, long moment. Shepard thinks her heart might try to crawl out of her throat. 

And then she notices it - the tremor in his hands.

He's as nervous as she is.

 

* * *

 

He wonders if she'll let him down easy.

Even as she stands there, wide eyed and beautiful and  _he'd had her melting against him for three whole hours,_ he can't help but wonder if there was something else he could have done to convince her -

"Hey," she blurts out - the sort of blurting that means she's as nervous as he is.

He blinks. His nerves fire like cannon blasts. He shoves his hands in his pockets to hide their shaking. His mouth dries out. He composes himself with a single, steadying breath.

It takes a moment.

"Want to uh… skip first period?" He asks. 

Shepard stares at him. Blinking owlishly.

Then she gapes at him.

"Garrus Vakarian, are you asking me to skip school… for  _you?"_

His heart stops.  _He knew it. It was too good to be true. You can't have your cake and eat it too-_

"Yes."

Yes.

His heart picks back up.

"Pardon me?" He blinks at her, at the smile on her face as she leans forward on her handlebars.

"What did you have in mind?" She asks.

He blinks again, and swallows as if he's the thirstiest man in the world.

Maybe he is.

Especially with the way she's looking at him.

Fuck, he thinks.  _Fuck._

"A new arcade opened up out on Alchera," he offers.

Her eyes light up like stars, and he knows his heart is hers forever. 

 

* * *

 

They don't make it to the arcade.

They don't really leave the parking lot.

The Starfighter purrs around them, waiting to go. Garrus' hands are on the steering wheel, and he's so aware of her out of the corner of his eye that the rest of the world goes away. She's in the passenger seat, tucking her backpack at her feet, muttering about credit chits and  _how the last arcade ate them all up, I swear._

When she sits up, she meets his eyes - and stops.

The world disintegrates around them. Everything just  _leaves._

It's only them and the Starfighter -- and whatever  _this_ is. 

Whatever she'll give him. 

And he wants it all. 

"Hey," she says softly, as if she's seeing him for the first time.

"Hey," he says back.

They don't look away from one another, even as the school bell rings and the parking lot empties and the Starfighter purrs on and on.

This is the hardest part - the day after the first kiss, when neither one is sure what the other thinks.

Garrus' breath rattles in his chest. She made the first move - why couldn't he make the second?

He turns off the Starfighter without looking away. The keys left in the ignition.

"About last night," he says.

Her eyes fluttering. "Yes?" She asks.

"I just -" he blinks, realizing how close they are. Her breath coasts across his lips. "Can I kiss you again?"

She sighs gently, softly. Not the sort of sigh he thought he might hear, but the kind that he had hoped for.

"Yes," she whispers.

Yes. 

His heart beats a painful tattoo against the inside of his chest. 

She's staring at him expectantly, hopefully. 

He leans forward, his lips brushing hers -

Or they would have, had his seatbelt not locked.

"Spirits, give me strength," he hisses. 

Her laughter is the only thing he hears.

And then her lips are on his

\- and he groans, low and hoarse, into her mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize that this chapter took so long! I hope that everyone enjoys it. 
> 
> Too bad Garrus is too focused on his new love life to remember (or care) about that letter he received...


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The previous chapter is fresh (as of 11/26/2017) - it is NOT the same chapter 13 that some of you might have read. Hell, even chapter 12 got a rework.

She slips her hand down to unbuckle the seatbelt that ruined his moment. His eyes sharpen at that - and then darken as she shifts across the center console to settle herself on his lap. She straddles him - and nothing has ever felt so right.

His hands settle like burning coals on her waist, his thumbs playing with the edge of her shirt.

And then he kisses her.

_He_ kisses  _her_.

It's like two stars colliding. A maelstrom of stardust whirling before their eyes, along their skin. They are the center of the universe; they are the edge of infinity.

She can't breathe.

_It's fine,_  she thinks.

It's fine that he's kissing her and she's kissing him and she can't breathe because  _she's been yearning for air and only just realized that no, no it's only been him - it's only ever been him._ Air is inconsequential.

Until their kiss quiets into a long moment of him touching his lips to hers, to her cheeks, to her forehead.

And then she breathes.

_No_ , she decides.  _Air is still important._

But only just.

He's staring at her with that look in his eyes - the one she realizes is for her, and her alone. It's been there for a while now, and that thought sends a shiver running the length of her spine.

He says her name, low and quiet. It vibrates to the core of her being.

"If we keep this up," he says in a strained gasp. "We might miss second period too."

Her hands curl against his chest, fingers clutching at his shirt. "Maybe the whole day."

"That wouldn't be so bad."

"No," she agrees. "It wouldn't."

She runs a hand up his neck, her nails dragging into his hair.

He shudders in response, his fingers curling into her sides. His thumbs digs into her hip bones in a way that drags her forward against him. The friction of it sends them both reeling, she gasps into his mouth, and he groans back.

And for a moment, they forget the world.


	15. Chapter 15

It ends gently, softly.  
  
And then they exist.  He eases his forehead against hers and they simply exist.  
  
“What --” the words sticks in his throat. “What is this?”  
  
Shepard doesn’t say anything at first. Her fingers run a tattoo over his heart, burning through his shirt to his very core. She breathes against him, her heartbeat in time with his.  
  
“What do you want it to be?” Her breath fans over his lips, her fingers skim the line of his collarbone.  But it is her words that force him to take in a rattling breath.  
  
_I want it. All of it. Everything.  
  
_ “Whatever you'll give me.” Except he doesn’t say that. Those words tangle on his tongue and he chokes out a hoarse: _“_ Something.”  
  
He nearly groans.  
  
_Fucking articulate, Vakarian.  
  
_ “Something?” Shepard’s breath hitches, a laugh slips between her lips and curls across his own.    
  
“I want --”  
  
Everything.  
  
Shepard searches his face. “ _Something_?” She supplies in a low and hopeful voice.  
  
Garrus nearly chokes because it’s such an inadequate word for what he wants.  
  
Something isn't everything.  
  
“You know what I mean,” he manages to get out -- and he hopes she does. He hopes it’s like the whispered phone calls after a big game, or the moments she’s shown up unannounced at his window, or even when he didn’t know he needed her at all and she was just _there.  
  
_ She pulls away and watches him, her eyes never leaving his.  
  
There is something cosmic about her eyes, Garrus thinks, something that drags him into an infinite dark that swirls with light and stardust.  
  
“Yeah,” Shepard traces his jaw, his cheek, his lips. There is reverence in her touch and it makes his heart sing. “I know what you mean.” She leans forward, her lips graze his ear.  “You want me to boost your stats on N7 Code**.”  
  
Garrus’ grip on her hips tighten.  
  
“But seriously,” she says into his ear. “I know what you mean. I can do that. I can do _something._ ”  
  
Garrus’ eyes squeeze shut.  
  
_Everything._

* * *

  
They spill out of the Starfighter, laughing and jostling one another like nothing has changed -- even if it has.  
  
Everything has changed.  
  
Every damn thing.  
  
Around them the parking lot is quiet, nearly unoccupied save for a group of theatre kids passing monotonous, dry lines to one another from _Hamlet_.  
  
“Doubt thou that the stars are fire,” a particularly large, bland faced boy intones. “Doubt thou that the --” his eyes skip across his group of friends and land on Shepard and Garrus.  
  
His peers turn as one, following his pointed gaze, their eyes dark and bleak and knowing. They stare, unblinking, as Shepard and Garrus pass by towards the doors of the school.  
  
_Doubt thou that the sun doth move_ , the boy never finishes.  
  
Silence follows them through the doors of the school.  
  
They don’t hold hands as they drift down the halls. They don’t touch or whisper sweet nothings. They walk and they act like the Starfighter never happened, though it exists in the moments their eyes meet, or they breathe one another's names.  
  
“Was that a _Hero of the Citadel_ thing?” Garrus asks.  
  
Shepard smirks at him. “I think it was a Star Quarterback thing.”  
  
Garrus scoffs and jostles her with his elbow.  
  
“Mister Vakarian.”  
  
They freeze.  
  
Principal Sparatus steps out from a dark side hall. He arranges the cuffs of his suit jacket, and tugs at the lapels with long, thin fingers. He watches them, his eyes narrowing as he takes in Shepard at Garrus’ side.  
  
“And Miss Shepard.”  
  
“Principal Sparatus,” Garrus nods. “Sir, we were just on our way to-”  
  
“You should be in Computer Sciences, Mister Vakarian,” Sparatus enunciates every word sharply. He ignores Garrus’ flush of embarrassment and looks at Shepard with an unfaltering, hard stare. “And where should you be?”  
  
“Theatre,” she lies.  
  
Sparatus doesn’t blink, he doesn’t even breathe. “Are you sure, Miss Shepard?”  
  
Shepard holds his gaze. She doesn’t look away.  
  
Sparatus visibly sharpens, his ire a physical, tangible presence that cracks and coils in the air around him.    
  
And then the bell rings.  
  
The hallway suddenly floods with students. The crowd moves and shifts, flowing like a river around them. Sparatus is given an exceptionally wide berth, students scurrying away at the sight of him. He watches Shepard, unyielding as he holds her attention. She isn’t afraid of him; she’s one of the few.  
  
“Don’t be late for your next class,” Sparatus finally says, the warning clear.  
  
Shepard only looks away when Garrus pulls her into the shifting, teeming crowd of students -- and they’re swept into the cosmos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **N7 Code of Honour: Medal of Duty  
> \-- the video game Shepard frequently beats Vega at.  
> \-- edited to be a canon video game, mentioned in LotSB DLC.
> 
> Also, a bit of plot building! 
> 
> If there are scenes you have a hankering for, whether they're light and fluffy moments or not, please let me know in a comment. I'm always eager to write little drabbles for these fools.


	16. Chapter 16

Joker is the first one to notice something.

More importantly, the  _lack_ of something.

Or rather  _someone._

Garrus Vakarian misses first period, which isn't strange as Shop class is anything  _but_  exciting, but come second period, Computer Science, and Joker knows something is  _up._

Garrus loves Computer Science.

He frowns at the empty seat beside him, and leans back in his chair to frown further down at their desk partner, Tali. She's leaning over her video recorder, thumbing the buttons and muttering to herself.

Even from where he's sitting he can make out footage of the latest football practice - in particular one player.

Joker drums his fingers on the desk. "Have you see him around?"

Tali looks up at him sharply, a frown pulling at her lips. "Who?"

Joker pointedly looks at her recorder. "Garrus."

Tali stares at him for a long moment, the promise of death kindling in her eyes.

It's in that moment that Joker realizes he doesn't actually know Tali that well, but he has an inkling that if anyone in their school knew how to ruin him - utterly ruin him - it would be her.

"You know what... Forget I asked," he turns back to his computer, clicking frantically at nothing to hide the shrill note of icy terror crawling up his spine.

* * *

 

Garrus miracuously shows up ten minutes late. He sidles in through the door, too tall and too  _Garrus Vakarian_ for anyone to  _not_ notice him.

"You're late, Mister Vakarian," their teacher, Miss Xen, intones from behind her own computer. "I presume there is a perfectly good reason for your tardiness?"

Garrus ducks his chin, and murmurs something about speaking with Sparatus and how it  _won't happen again, Miss Xen, I promise._

She stares at him long and hard, her eyes dark and searching. It is a long moment before she gestures for him to take his seat, seemingly satisfied with whatever lie hides in his eyes.

Garrus makes his way to his station, dropping into his chair between Joker and Tali. He smiles at the latter - something which brings a rush of pink to her cheeks.

"Dude," Joker says by way of greeting. "Where the hell have you been?"

Garrus shrugs. "Talking with Sparatus."

Joker is unconvinced. "Uh huh. For two periods?"

There is a glint in Garrus' eye. Something smug and private.

Joker and Tali both see it.

Joker doesn't understand.

But Tali does.

Her hand slips on her recorder, and she fumbles with the camera for a moment, hissing under her breath as it clatters from her hands, to her lap, and finally, to the floor.

Garrus leans down to help at the same moment as Tali. He laughs low and quiet when they nearly bump heads, and gives her a soft albeit teasing smile as he passes it to her.

Tali stares.

And she can't stop staring.

Garrus' smile lasts only so long before it falters, falls, drifts away. He frowns. "You okay, Tali?"

She tries to think of what to say.

And then the teacher is calling for them to get to work and Tali blubbers out something incoherent while tugging the camera free from his hands.

She turns back to her computer, shoulders hunched around her ears, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Garrus and Joker exchange a curious look.

* * *

 

Tali is the second to notice something.

More importantly, someone.

She might not have had extensive experience with boys herself, but she runs a blog. She knows things. She knows places. She knows the internet - and the dark side of it.

She's read enough fanfiction to know a thing or two about  _flushed cheeks_ and  _swollen lips._ She's known Garrus long enough to know how perfect his hair can be - and how imperfect it currently is.

And she knows he doesn't wear glittery lipgloss.

But she knows someone who does - once in a while.

Like today.

Tali is the second to notice something, but she's the first to realize and know and quietly accept it. She tucks away her infatuation, smooths the edges of her heart, and tries to be happy for him.

Tali can't help but think their names have a nice ring to it.

Shepard and Vakarian.


	17. Chapter 17

It isn't that he forgets the letter.

It isn't that he forgets the future, looming and ominous.

The letter is there. Always. It sits in the inner pocket of his jacket, burning like an angry coal against his ribs. Sometimes he finds it, crumpled and folded and dog eared.

The promise of a future, albeit not the one he wishes to face.

So he ignores it.

He shoves it back into his coat and tells himself  _later._

_Deal with it later._

There is something about Shepard that inspires a carelessness in Garrus.

 _What do you want?_ She had asked him.

The question swallows him. It swallows them both.

His answer is in the strength of his grip on her hips. His answer is in the unmistakable heat blooming between them. His answer exists in her name, like a reverent prayer whispered from his lips, carried from his tongue to hers.

And she validates his answer. She validates it with her own hands finding paths on his body, her fingers tracing promises along his shoulders, his sides, his stomach.

 _What do you want?_ She asks without words, her fingertips weaving a tantalizing sonnet near the button of his jeans.

He nearly dies.

"Not here," he says, his voice ragged and breaking.

"Locker room doesn't do it for you?" She whispers, the edge of a grin in her voice. Her thumb drags near his belly button, her nail edging down, down, down. It catches on the front of his jeans - and goes no further.

Garrus groans, his head falling back against the puke green tile of the wall. Shepard has wrangled him into a corner nearest his locker, her back to the door. Despite the smell - of which he can't believe she hasn't complained - there is nowhere he'd rather be.

"It smells like Wreav."

She laughs - low and dark and at odds with the gentle kiss she places against the underside of his jaw. A goodbye, he realizes, as she steps away.

"Not here," she agrees, giving him a once over. She tilts her head with a wicked gleam in her eyes. "But are you sure? There's a shower back there we could -"

Garrus growls - the sound is enough to send her scurrying from the locker room, her laughter trailing behind her.

He follows her with a grin.

And the letter, burning and refusing to be ignored... is.

_Deal with it later._

* * *

"I like to think myself above favouritism, Garrus," Sparatus says. He stares out the window of his office, across the field, watching as the theatre students practice Hamlet beneath the trees. Their droll, monotonous lines drift up to his office. They are boring enough to make him shut his only window with a frown.

The room is instantly suffocating.

"But I'm not." Sparatus turns quickly, sharply, crisply, hands folded neatly in front of him, and sniffs.

"Sir?"

Garrus Vakarian stands as a soldier: at the ready - square and light on his feet. He considers Sparatus with the same coolness, the same collection that sees him succeed on the football field. Sparatus has always liked that about the boy.

"Do you know why I called you in here?" Sparatus continues.

"No, sir."

"I was informed that you were accepted into C-Sec. Congratulations are in order."

"Thank you, sir."

Sparatus watches him. He watches the way Garrus never quite meets his eye, but waits - waits for  _something._

"It is a prodigious program. I imagine you're quite proud - and your father, of course. "

Garrus rolls a reply around in his mouth - and then offers a singular, concise nod.

"My father is proud, yes."

Sparatus hums at the careful words the boy has chosen. "Garrus - I called you in here today not just to congratulate you. I also wish to offer some advice: If you want to succeed, I suggest you cut loose the dead weight."

Garrus startles - and squints at him.

"Sir?"

He sees it then. Behind Garrus' cool composure he glimpses a moment of that  _something._

Defiance.

Like an ember it flares behind Garrus' eyes - and then cools, cools back into that calm and quiet.

"Do not let your future fall away from you for the sake of something  _now_ ," Sparatus says.

Garrus blinks and swallows.

"With all due respect, Sir," Garrus begins in a slow, cadenced tone. "I'm not sure I catch your meaning."

Sparatus stares at him long and hard, the boy's feigned ignorance at odds with the intelligent light in his eyes.

Sparatus smiles coolly and gestures to the door - a clear dismissal. "Think on it, Mister Vakarian."

Garrus nods and turns to leave, pausing only when Sparatus calls out a last goodbye.

"Make us proud."

 

* * *

 

Tali drinks a triple espresso in less than five minutes -- and goes back for seconds. 

Shepard has never been more afraid of someone in her entire life. 

This is her only thought as she watches Tali approach their corner table in the cafe, her own black coffee clutched tightly in her hands. She isn't sure if it's the gleam in Tali's eyes or the fact she's already chugging down her second drink that causes Shepard to white knuckle her mug. Regardless, she settles further back into her chair and sips delicately at her coffee.

If only to occupy her mouth from blurting out the truth she knows Tali is skirting.

Garrus. 

It is only Shepard's innate sense of danger that alerts her to Tali's intentions. 

And the gleam in Tali's eyes.

And maybe, just maybe, the nervousness Tali hides by babbling excitedly about topics she isn't apt to babble about.

_"Have you seen the theatre kids practicing Hamlet?"_

_"Do you think Ashley likes being the meanest player on the field hockey team?"_

_"Have you heard about Reaping Academy and their new linebacker?"_

Tali sits down across from her, eyes wide as she considers Shepard over the rim of her mug. 

Shepard stares back.

"So," Tali mumbles into her cup. "You and Garrus."

Shepard lets out a breath and rolls the cup between her hands. "Yup." 

Tali blinks - once, twice, three times.

And then grins. 

"I knew it!" 

Shepard tries to meet her grin, but offers something decidedly less excited and decidedly  _more_ awkward.

Somehow Tali notices through her espresso fueled haze. She deflates. "What's the matter?" 

"We just... haven't told anyone yet." 

"Why not?" 

Shepard sits forward with a sigh. "I care about Garrus, but his dad --"

"Miss Shepard."

Her words stutter and die in her mouth. 

 _Speak of the devil,_ she doesn't say. 

With a breath and a sip of coffee, Shepard steels herself for the impossibility of the moment. 

She turns to the man standing at the edge of their table. The blue of his eyes a swirling storm. It's a different storm than the usual icy distaste he always considered her with in the past. It is edged and personal. 

"Mister Vakarian," she says. 

 Shepard has a brief and fleeting thought that the danger she sensed might not have been Tali at all, but Garrus' taciturn father who has  _never_ liked her. 

* * *

 

 

Garrus' phone vibrates as he slides into the Starfighter at the end of football practice.

The letter refuses to be ignored.   
__  
dad  
_\- We need to talk.  
__5:45pm_

 


End file.
